This blog is about the KCCD2009 (King Croesus Contempt for Death) Trip and it's preparations. The journey will be performed on 2x 1939 Nimbus motorcycles with sidecars and ETD is April 2009. ETA is unknown, as you never know if it's a Sweet Chariot or an Infernal Machine you ride.

On the road again, after a one-week involuntary stay in Kerch. In four days we've ridden by way of Krasnadar, Rostov na Don, Stalingrad, Saratov & to Samara, and been busted by The Law six times a day on average. Roads are good, and we've had no major problems.

The days in Kerch waiting for documents have been long, time being spent on maintenance and office work. Hate these long stopovers, because they give you time to think about what the f**** you're doing with your life and what you have to show for it after all those years. Not always a nice thought. But when you're on the road again you're off from your own thoughts, using all your energy taking in new impressions and trying hard not to become a truck hood ornament.

Nevertheless, Kerch treated us well, the papers arrived and we took the 7 pm ferry, sneaked through customs like thieves in the night and rode until 3 am before passing out amongst a bunch of trucks in some village. When we woke up all exposed body parts had been eaten by mosquitoes and other bugs, and we found ourselves at the vegetable market, surrounded by cucumber sellers. Cucumbers are the bananas of Russia, and really hot items around here.

We rode on all day, stopping only for re-tightening a cylinder head and an oil change. When darkness fell we reached another truckstop and got ourselves a $15 motel room and a shower.

Next afternoon we reached Volgograd, formerly Stalingrad, a place so ideally suited for fighting, that in WW2 people came all the way from Vladivostok and Germany to do so. At the time the Brits were busy harvesting teas, and the French were breeding croissants, thus missing out on the whole thing. Nevertheless, the Russians and the Germans went for it big time, the former losing a million men and all the houses, courtesy of German artillery, tanks, armoured cars and other hi-tech demolition equipment. Today only a 19th century windmill remains – which, ironically, was built by Germans – while the rest of the city dates from after the war.

Of all the excellent places in Stalingrad to fight, the most popular popular place was 'Hill 102', the local 'Hamburger Hill'. Nice view from up there, and now an enormous war memorial has been built on top; a 83 metres tall statue of Mother Russia brandishing a sword, and a mosaic with 7200 names of fallen soldiers. Plus the remains of the windmill mentioned above.

As nice a place as Stalingrad was, we had to move on, bought some food and continued until darkness fell. All guidebooks claim that camping in the wilderness is deadly dangerous, so we rode off the freeway to camp in the wilderness. After downing a super-omelette we slept for 5-6 hours, and rode on at 7 am.

In Saratov we tried to buy a SIM-card, apparently impossible without a fixed address in Russia. Then had a chat with two guys, one of which – Sergej - gave us his. Russian are really helpful and nice. Thanks to the people here, Russia may be one of the nicest and rewarding countries in which to travel, if you can deal with linguistic barriers and the bureaucracy. Great nature and flashbacks to the Soviet era, too.

Having left Saratov, we arrived at one of the most fascinating places so far. It had a name I cannot pronounce, much less write down using normal characters. Typically, we were too rushed to film or take photos there, which has been nagging me ever since I left the place. Basically it looked like some enormous computer game, a decent zombie town.

First thing greeting us was the sight of a natural gas producing area, pilot flames burning in the dusk. Next thing we saw is a dead forest. The trees were all black and stood in a green-black swamp. We rode further along and into a fog so dense we could see all but 10 metres ahead of us, and it was difficult to even breathe. Then suddenly there was a road block, and we had to bribe our way to a sticker.

Another kilometre further on the road ends and we went offroad riding. Occasionally we encountered pitch black GJØRME, likely caused by oil spills, and along the road we saw old oil pumps working non-stop and polluting the shit out of their surroundings. While riding along slowly we got chased by some sort of rabid fox-like creatures, so stopping for a photo-op wasn't all that tempting.

It was pitch black when we left the zombie town, and at the first motel they told us it is closed. Fortunately we located a truck stop some clicks further on, where it was safe to sleep outside.

Next day we arrive in Samara, typically without getting hold on anyone there beforehand. Then we succesfully follow the usual procedure; ride around town until a local biker spots us. If the biker in question doesn't speak English, he'll call somebody who does. That somebody will – like now - tell us to hang onto the guy and we'll end up at the local biker café. At the café we met an American we've talked to, Sergei, Andrei and some others.

After another few calls we rode to Night Wolves MCC (Russia's oldest and largest motorcycle club, with 30 chapters, a seroius and most helpful organisation), where we met Arthur, a well traveled man who spoke excellent English. Also met another Andrei, who arranged for us to stay in his guest house, with acces to a high pressure washer and other stuff useful for prepping the bikes for Kazakhstan.

At the time of writing the bikes are ready, and we have maps for the rest of the route to Vladivostok. As for Kasakstan we had to alter the planned route: The road from Uralsk to The Aral Lake appears to be for offroad vehicles only, and not for half tonne gross weight Nimbuses. So for now we ride along in Russia, and will enter north of Astana. Then we'll see how far we get before the visa expiration date becomes a problem.

Andrei, a girl whose name I didn't get, David, Vasilia and one more girl. David is American, traveling alone on a Kaw KLR. Unusual to meet an American here, but it's cool that some of them dare to go travelling (translator's note; by and large, Americans aren't afraid of anything). David gave us his map of Kazakhstan and Mongolia. Nice chap.